


more than words

by CapriciousCrab



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, POV First Person, POV Phil, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:07:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23199070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapriciousCrab/pseuds/CapriciousCrab
Summary: sometimes they don't need to say anything
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 16
Kudos: 62
Collections: phandomficfests: escape from reality





	more than words

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Phandomficfests Escape from Reality fest

It's quiet tonight in the flat.

Two weeks of disappointment and nerves had us frayed around the edges, tempers flaring as we snapped and sniped at each other throughout the day. Canceled events, rejection emails, and incessant news updates had us toeing the line of a blowup neither one of us wanted to have. So we had bit back the words, and the fear disguised as anger and declared a trash tv night. No phones, no internet- just us and garbage programming and dominos with wine.

Dan had grumbled a bit about my choice of show but gave in when I made a face that he calls 'the look'. He calls me dirty cheat but it's said with playful exasperation as I gloat a little, jamming his elbow into my side when he catches me. He also calls me perv but I ignore that in favor of eyeing the shirtless chest on the screen.

Dan's hand cradles mine as we sit together on the sofa, his thumb sliding over my knuckles in an absentminded caress. We're only twenty minutes into the newest episode of Riverdale and the heat from Dan's body draws me in, filling me with lazy drowsiness that has me tipping my head over onto his shoulder even though it has my glasses going all wonky.

He looks at me and smiles, the soft one that still makes my stomach swoop after all these years. Everything about him looks soft in the dim lighting of the lounge; the drooping curls flopping gently over his forehead, the crinkles that form at the corners of his eyes as his smile widens, the dimple that pops when he grins at me. His cheeks are wine-flushed from the rosé we'd had with dinner and scattered with last season's freckles, and the urge to kiss each one has never been stronger.

Dan moves before I can, shifting me off of his shoulder as he stands and stretches. His pyjama trousers are rucked up unevenly on his calves and his bare toes curl in defense against the chilly wood floor before he shuffles off to the kitchen. I can hear the sound of the tap running, then the microwave as the scent of popcorn fills the air. When he comes into the lounge, he's carrying two mugs and a bowl of popcorn and he smiles at me like he read my mind. And maybe he did because there's never been anyone who knows me better than Dan.

He hands me my coffee, and I smile at the first sip. It's sweet and milky, just the way I like it, and he grins at the happy sigh that passes my lips. He settles back against the sofa and lifts his arm, waiting for me to tuck myself against his side once more. I nestle into him eagerly, his heavy arm coming down around my shoulder and he picks up my hand once more.

My hand looks smaller when held in his, almost dainty in comparison. I stretch my fingers along his and marvel at how big and strong those hands are, yet they touch me with such gentleness. His big, warm hands have cradled my head during the worst of my migraine attacks and have kneaded countless knots of anxiety from my shoulders. They've held puppies and babies cautiously and made music with such tender delicacy that it made my heart ache to hear, and I can't help but lift them to my mouth to press kisses along the back.

Dan snorts out a laugh and I look up to see him watching me with that look on his face. It's slightly sarcastic but fond, as if he can't help but be charmed by my antics. He raises an eyebrow in question, but I just shake my head slightly, not wanting to pop this bubble of warm contentment we've created for ourselves tonight with words that feel unnecessary.

Episodes pass and my mind drifts, my thoughts dancing around things like happiness and how pretty Dan looks even when he's spilled tea down his shirt and has popcorn kernels in his lap. I tell myself that it's ridiculous to still feel like I don't deserve this, that he could do better than me and my brand of awkward weirdness. But those are thoughts that I keep to myself because I know they would hurt him to hear. So I tuck them away in the shadowy corners of my mind.

Norm is swimming 'round in his tank...can fish can catch human illnesses? I reach for my phone before realizing that it's been tucked away in the bedside drawer until morning and sigh, my mind creating images of fish-sized thermometers and ice packs and tiny face masks.

I don't realize that I've fallen asleep until he shakes me awake with those gentle hands, his voice a soft murmur in my ear. C’mon, Phil, he says as he wraps his arm around my waist to guide me to bed. My legs are heavy and my feet clumsy but he holds me steady, keeping me safe until I reach our bed and crawl into it. I flop down boneless against the mattress and listen to the sounds of Dan getting ready for bed and then the mattress dips and he's leaning over me to pluck the glasses from my face, setting them onto the table beside me.

"Idiot," he whispers softly as he kisses my pouting lips.

It makes me snort as I roll onto my side and then he's there behind me, his arm slung over my hip and he pulls me back into his body. He pushes his knees into the backs of mine, tucks his face into my neck and drifts to sleep.

I lay awake for a bit while Dan snores softly in my ear. We've hardly spoken this evening and yet I've never felt more cared for or loved than now, with Dan wrapped protectively around my body. We say the words to each other often, but the love and consideration shown by his acts of thoughtful kindness fill my heart in a way that words often can't, easing any fears of inadequacy.

I yawn as I think about love and gestures and words until it swirls in my brain like soup and my eyes refuse to open. I tug Dan's arm closer to my body and think about making him breakfast in the morning until I fall asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!
> 
> you can like or reblog [here](https://capriciouscrab.tumblr.com/post/612933964356861952/more-than-words-rating-g-word-count-1-k)


End file.
